“An attorney named Akers,” she said.
And at that Howard had scowled.
“She'd better keep away altogether,” he observed, curtly. “She oughtn't to meet men like that.”
“Shall I tell her?”
“I'll tell her,” he said. And tell her he did, not too tactfully, and man-like shielding her by not telling her his reasons.
“He's not the sort of man I want you to know,” he finished. “That ought to be sufficient. Have you seen him since?”
Lily flushed, but she did not like to lie.
“I had tea with him one afternoon. I often have tea with men, father. You know that.”
“You knew I wouldn't approve, or you would have mentioned it.”
Because he felt that he had been rather ruthless with her, he stopped in at the jeweler's the next morning and sent her a tiny jeweled watch. Lily was touched and repentant. She made up her mind not to see Louis Akers again, and found a certain relief in the decision. She was conscious that he had a peculiar attraction for her, a purely emotional appeal. He made her feel alive. Even when she disapproved of him, she was conscious of him. She put him resolutely out of her mind, to have him reappear in her dreams, not as a lover, but as some one dominant and insistent, commanding her to do absurd, inconsequential things.